


The Other Side of Hellfire

by StarFusion617



Series: Will You Let Me Hold Your Heart? [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Protection, Sadness, wither skeletons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarFusion617/pseuds/StarFusion617
Summary: Dream’s point of view of The Nether.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Will You Let Me Hold Your Heart? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009854
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83





	The Other Side of Hellfire

From the moment Dream stepped onto the dark brick of the Nether fortress, he knew something was off.

For one thing, there were almost no mobs. Dotted across the top of the open bridge were pigmen, lazily wandering around, but there were no wither skeletons, magma cubes, blazes, or skeletons in sight.

But Dream also had a twisting, strangling feeling in his stomach that something was wrong. The very fortress floor seemed to radiate dread and danger, sending unpleasant vibrations up Dream’s spine.

But he needed blaze rods. And George was with him. He didn’t want to ruin his friend’s first Nether experience by turning back as soon as they got to the fortress.

So he hid the feeling as best he could, grateful for the mask covering his expression, and started towards the staircase he knew led down into the depths of the fortress.

Dream knew the path to the blaze spawner well enough to walk it with his eyes closed, so he had extra time to notice the distinct lack of mobs even down here.

He never thought that the relative safety would be chilling, but then this was the Nether. Everything about the place could send shivers up anyone’s spine.

Eventually, after turning so many corners and crossing through so many intersections that Dream knew George must be feeling extremely lost, the familiar red brick of the blaze passageway gleamed up ahead.

He held an arm out as he reached the corner, stopping George from walking unknowingly into the blazes’ range of fire. Today, he had no intention to teach his friend how to fight blazes. That would come another time.

Silently, Dream caught George’s eyes and gestures for him to peek around the corner. His friend did, cautiously poking his head out into the adjoining corridor, before pulling it back so quickly Dream worried he might have given himself whiplash.

“What are those?!” George asked, stumbling back towards Dream. As much as Dream was glad his friend clearly associated him with safety, he desperately wanted to clear the fear clouding George’s eyes.

He decided to keep it simple, trying not to scare his friend any further. “Blazes. Wait here. I need to kill some.”

As soon as he finished the sentence, Dream slipped around the corner and quickly counted four blazes currently floating above the spawner.

He unsheathed his sword, the diamond blade familiar and comforting as he ran at the blaze on the far right.

Almost immediately, he heard the sound of the blazes preparing to fire, and quickly sidestepped as they flung a barrage of fireballs at him.

As soon as the fireballs stopped flying, Dream lifted his sword and brought it down hard across the blaze’s metal body.

The mob exploded after a few more hits, all but one of the metal rods shattering into useless pieces.

Shaking his head at his unenchanted sword, which meant he didn’t have looting, he went to work dodging fireballs and slicing apart more blazes.

He managed to collect another six rods before one of the fireballs shot an inch too close to his left arm.

Pain seared through the heated skin, and Dream stumbled as his arm started to blister. Quickly deciding he had enough rods for today, he spun and threw himself back behind the corner, leaning against the wall next to George and dropping his sword against the bricks.

“Ah, fuck,” he swore quietly, gripping his injured arm tightly to his chest with his other hand.

George turned to him, concern flooding his features. “Are you okay?”

Dream wanted to answer, but he knew if he spoke his voice would come out weak, making it impossible to lie like he wanted to.

George let the silence reign for a few seconds before beginning to look a little scared.

“Dream? Dream, what happened?!”

The fear in his voice was enough to make Dream look over. “I’ll be fine, George, it’s just a burn,” he managed, proud when his voice remained steady. He took his hand away and studied the wound, noting that he’d probably need a healing potion once they got back.

But George wasn’t having it. “Just a burn? I know you better than that. How bad is it?” he asked quietly.

Dream didn’t want to reply, knowing his friend would see right through a lie, so he went with the vaguest answer he could think of.

“Nothing we can’t heal with potions when we get back.” It was true, technically.

“Dream.”

Dream glanced over at George and sighed, resting his head against the wall behind him and holding out his arm to let George look.

“Okay, it’s pretty bad, but I’m serious. I’ll be fine once we get home.”

“Okay, but we should go back. That looks like it hurts,” George answered determinedly, stepping away like he was about to walk off by himself.

Dream nodded and grabbed his sword, slipping it back into its sheath.

“Yeah, we can go back. I got enough.”

———

Dream led the way out of the labyrinth of hallways, finally reaching the staircase they’d taken down after almost ten minutes of walking.

He climbed the first few steps, hearing George start up behind him, when his friend suddenly screamed.

It was high-pitched and bloodcurdling, filled with pain and surprise. Dream instantly whipped around, just in time to see George fall to his knees, a wither skeleton standing directly behind him.

“George!”

Dream panicked and leapt straight off the staircase, hitting the ground with a shout and driving his sword through the skeleton’s ribcage. He was careful to avoid the deadly black sword as he finished the mob off in two precise strokes of his sword, not even bothering to watch it explode into dust particles before turning back to George.

In the time it had taken Dream to kill the wither skeleton, George had fallen onto his side. Tears were running down his face, but his eyes were glazed and Dream doubted he even realized.

Dream kneeled next to his friend and rested a hand on his arm, his anxiety levels spiking when George didn’t react.

“No, no, no, no, come on, George, look at me!”

Desperately, Dream reached forward with both hands and trapped his friend’s face in between his palms. This time George blinked, his eyes focusing briefly on Dream.

“Alright, good, George,” Dream rambled, exhaling in slight relief. “I know you probably can’t hear me right now but I’m gonna get you back, okay? I promise.”

Dream sheathed his sword again and moved to crouch next to George, sliding one arm under his friend’s knees, the other under George’s shoulders. With a little effort, he stood, hoisting George off the ground and into his arms.

He peered down at George, scanning his face quickly, noting that his eyes were still focused. That was good.

Dream sucked in a breath, prepared himself for the pain he’d surely be putting his friend in, and started running.

Sure enough, George screamed, using his good arm to claw frantically at his injured shoulder. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, but he could still hurt himself further if Dream didn’t do something.

Dream shifted George so that his upper body weight was resting against Dream’s chestplate, quickly freeing his right hand and trapping George’s arm between his stomach and his friend’s side.

“Stop, George, you’re going to hurt yourself, stop struggling,” Dream mumbled, hooking his arm underneath George’s shoulders again as he crossed over onto netherrack.

He was glad his friend couldn’t hear the strain in his voice as he talked.

Then George seemed to relax slightly, and Dream glanced down to where his friend’s head rested against his chestplate. He wondered if George could feel the rumble of him talking through the metal.

Deciding to assume he could, Dream kept up a running narration as he sprinted towards the portal that would take them out of here. He talked about anything and everything, trying his best to ignore the blood staining his shirt and making the fabric warm and sticky.

Every once in a while, he glanced down to check on George, but his friend seemed to have lost touch with the world again. He laid limply in Dream’s arms, the only indication that he was still conscious being the raw pain filling his glazed eyes.

Dream’s arm was starting to burn even more than before, the damaged skin sending fiery tendrils of pain down into his wrist every time the wound brushed against George’s clothes. But he couldn’t stop. Just like he couldn’t stop when George had screamed and thrashed earlier, trying to dig the wither out of his own wound.

If he stopped, the effect would course through George’s body and shut down his organs.

Dream couldn’t allow that to happen.

Finally, finally, he reached the portal, throwing himself in headfirst. Swirling purple filled his vision for a moment before he tumbled out the other side, fighting down the familiar nausea.

Here, in the snow-covered forest of their home biome, everything was so peaceful. For a moment, it didn’t seem like anything could be wrong.

But the bright crimson blood dripping down to stain the crystal white snow beneath his feet said otherwise.

Dream struggled to run through the snow back to the house, his strength already nearly drained from running all the way back from the Nether.

When he reached their front door, he tore it open and rushed inside, laying George carefully on the couch before heading straight for the potion room.

He grabbed healing, regeneration, and strength, quickly downing the strength and healing before hurrying back out to the living room.

His energy started to return almost immediately, sending a rush of strength through his body. He could already feel the burn on his arm beginning to close up as the healing potion ran its course.

When he got back to George’s side, he was dismayed to see that the sickly blackness of the wither effect had spread into George’s neck, back, and wrist.

Fear formed a knot in Dream’s stomach, tightening unbearably as he knelt next to George.

His friend’s eyes were open, focused on his face, but they were still bright with pain. As Dream held up the splash potion, ready to smash it apart, George whined.

“I know, I know,” Dream mumbled, resting a hand on his friend’s good arm. “You’re okay. I have a potion here, but I don’t think you can drink anything right now, so I’m gonna use a splash potion.”

George’s face relaxed considerably, and Dream figured he must be able to hear him again. He raised the bottle and brought his hands together, shattering the glass between them.

His gloves saved his hands from getting sliced apart by the resulting shards, and the contents of the bottle fell to sink into George’s still body. The knot in Dream’s stomach loosened only slightly.

Dream got to work pulling his friend’s chestplate off, knowing the potion wasn’t going to be enough.

“Okay, I’m gonna have to do the rest the traditional way. The potion got the wither effects out, but the wound is still open. I’m gonna have to stitch it up,” he explained to George, tugging his friend’s shirt out of the way of his shoulder.

Quickly, Dream left and gathered a needle, thread, and another healing potion just in case, before returning to George’s side.

“Okay, ready?”

Dream didn’t wait for an answer before starting, just wanting this whole ordeal to be over.

He got three stitches in before George made any noise.

“...h-hurts...”

Dream felt tears sting his eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry. It won’t in a minute, I promise,” he said shakily, trying to return his focus to keeping the needle steady.

George’s head turned away, and Dream tried to work even faster. He didn’t want to do this any more than George did.

Finally, he brought the needle out of the last stitch and cut the thread after tying it off.

He set the materials to the side and wrapped his arms around George, tugging him up and into a fierce but gentle hug.

Dream set his chin on George’s head and just held him, hardly even noticing the tears dripping to mix with the blood in his shirt.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered, but he didn’t know whether it was for himself or George.

Soon after, George’s breathing evened out, and Dream realized he’d fallen asleep.

He sighed and buried his nose in George’s hair. He never wanted anything like that to happen ever again.

———

Dream showered and changed before he returned to the living room, surprised at how difficult it was to leave George for too long.

He sighed and resigned himself to cooking dinner, making porkchops because they were the most abundant food in the house.

Just as he finished cooking the meat, taking it out of the furnace and laying it on a plate, he heard George stir in the living room.

Quickly he grabbed the plate and carried it into the next room, setting it down on the table next to the couch before taking a seat on George’s left.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, figuring his friend’s head probably hurt and keeping his voice soft.

“Better. Thanks for healing me. Did you carry me all the way back here?” George asked.

Dream had no idea how much his friend remembered, but he answered anyway.

“Yeah. You got hit by a wither skeleton. When those things make contact, the wound is infected with the wither effect, which causes extreme pain and loss of senses as it takes hold. Then it spreads, and if the victim doesn’t get help in time, it will stop your heart and lungs.”

George didn’t say anything for a long time. He looked thoughtful and slightly regretful.

“What did you do?” he asked eventually, a little hesitant.

“I killed the thing and tried to get you to respond, but it was already too late. So I brought you back here as fast as possible to heal you. It’s a good thing I hadn’t burned my sword arm, or I don’t know what would have happened,” Dream said immediately. He got the feeling George hadn’t known the consequences of the wither effect before now.

“Wait, your burn. You carried me back with that?” George asked suddenly.

Dream’s heart jumped. He’d hoped his friend wouldn’t remember that detail.

“I’ve been burned by blazes many times before,” he answered, trying to be dismissive. “It wasn’t too hard to ignore it when you were suffering from the withering effect.” Technically, it was the truth. George’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t question it.

“I remember you restraining my arm at some point, but I don’t remember anything else except the extreme need to free it. What was I doing?” he asked instead.

“Victims of the wither effect will try to injure themselves in an attempt to get the wither out of their bodies. Usually they claw at the wound, which can make it a lot worse if they’re not restrained in time,” Dream practically quoted from memory, remembering a book he’d once read on the topic before his first trip into the Nether.

“How do you know so much about this?” George asked.

Dream was unsurprised. “I read all about it before I went in my first time and in the time after. I wanted to be prepared, I guess. But I want to ask you, why do people try to dig the wither effect out? What’s it like?” he asked.

George hesitated, and Dream instantly worried he’d overstepped. Of course George wouldn’t want to relive the experience.

But then his friend answered. His voice didn’t shake. “It’s like there’s fire in your blood, and you can’t get away from it, so your instincts tell you to get to it and get rid of it.”

Dream’s stomach twisted painfully. He could have run faster, he could have looked back and noticed the skeleton earlier, he could have kept a better eye out for mobs, he could have listened to his instincts and left when they got there, he—

A weight settled on his shoulder, warm and comforting, and he blinked, realizing it was George’s hand.

His friend was staring into his eyes, and Dream got the feeling he knew exactly what Dream had been thinking about.

“Thank you. For not leaving me there,” George said. Dream’s eyes widened. How could George be thanking him for _that?_

“I would never,” he promised, pulling George into a hug and telling himself that his friend was here, he was safe, none of it mattered anymore. “You mean so much to me, George,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes.

George didn’t say anything, but he curled closer, so Dream tightened his arms around his friend and allowed himself to relax.

It was okay. George was okay.

Dream was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to start a discord server. I’m planning on using it for giving you guys updates, but I’m hoping it could also become a pretty cool community. If you want to talk, chill, or hang out, welcome!
> 
> https://discord.gg/R3T73Nttzk


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